


Happenstance

by being_alive



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff and Smut, POV Second Person, and the fact that canon has been bent slightly to provide a backstory for rupert, both in the events of the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-20 17:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21060602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: When you open your window to air out the smell of your burnt dinner, the last thing you expect to happen is for someone to fall into your apartment through it not even fifteen minutes later.





	Happenstance

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself that I was just going to write a quick oneshot, but yet here we are, four thousand words later.
> 
> Also, I've been wanting to use this title forever and now I finally have!

When you open your window to air out the smell of your burnt dinner, the last thing you expect to happen is for someone to fall into your apartment through it not even fifteen minutes later. You hear a _thunk_ before you actually see anything, and leave the charred remnants of your dinner on the kitchen counter to go and see what caused the noise. You walk from your kitchen into your living room and that's when you see the man sprawled out on the cheap brown carpet of your living room. 

Unwittingly, you shriek at the sight, and the man jerks up, looking just as startled as you feel as he pulls himself up into a sitting position. As he does so, that's when you see the blue smear on your carpet, and the matching blue surrounding what you're pretty sure is a bullet hole near his shoulder. If a person had been one of the things you were least expecting to see come in your window, then you're pretty sure that an android ranks even lower than that, but still higher than, for example, a check for ten million dollars.

There's no LED on his forehead that you can see, but you sincerely doubt that anyone but androids bleed blue. You stare at him and he stares back at you, brown eyes wide underneath the brim of his cap. As you stand there, stunned into silence, he turns and attempts to leave through the window from which he came in only to find that it has swung shut behind him.

"The windows lock automatically," you say, before you can stop to consider the potential ramifications of doing so, and at the sound of your voice, he startles and turns back around to face you. Something resembling fear shines in his eyes, and in that moment, you can't help but to feel sorry for him even if he did technically break into your house.

"You're bleeding," you say, and add, gently, "Let me help you."

You know that logically, you should call the police or run him out or run out yourself, but there's something about the look on his face that makes you want to help him. The fear on his face gives way and turns to confusion as he asks, "Why?"

You smile what you hope is a reassuring smile as you reply, "You're hurt. Do I need any other reason?"

"Yes," he says in return, simply and bluntly.

"That's fair," you reply and then, after a moment's thought, add, "Because I'd want someone to help me if I fell through their window, and also happened to be bleeding."

If he were a human man, you'd undoubtably be much more wary, but as everything stands, even if he is an android and even if he did fall in through your window, he's also still hurt. He simply looks at you in response, studying you, before nodding and saying, "All right."

You sigh in relief and then ask, "What were you doing out there, anyway?"

"I just wanted to look at the birds," he says in response, pointing towards the cage in which your two parakeets are continuing to squawk up a storm. You blink in surprise and then ask, "You like birds, then?"

"Yes," he replies, simply. Until now, you hadn't known that androids could really have likes and dislikes. _Unless he's one of the deviants you've seen on the news lately_, you think, and decide that that would explain a lot.

"Me too," you say, and then trail off into silence. After a moment, you ask while gesturing to one of the chairs at your kitchen table, "Do you mind sitting down over here?" 

With a small nod, he begins to make his way over to the chair, and by extension, you. You can't help the nervous chuckle that escapes you as you ask, "And would you mind taking off your jacket and shirt? So that I can cauterize that?"

As if somehow picking up on your nervousness, he asks, "You do actually know how to cauterize wounds, don't you?"

You force a smile to your face and say, as reassuringly as you can, "Of course! I just need to go and gather supplies to do it."

With that, you turn and dash into your bedroom to grab your tablet to quickly do a search on how to cauterize a wound before going into your bathroom to grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You doubt an android could get an infection but you do need some excuse for having left the kitchen in the first place. With the bottle in hand, you make your way back into your kitchen and find that Rupert has done exactly as you asked, and is sitting in the chair you'd gestured to, with his shirt and jacket draped neatly over the back of the chair he isn't sitting in, and his cap resting atop the table. 

You have to pause for a second, because, you realize that despite what you'd asked of him, you hadn't actually been prepared to see him shirtless. His musculature is better than you'd expected, and for the briefest of moments you're almost able to forget that he's an android, and not a human, and that someone designed him to specifically to look this way. You blink rapidly, and decide then that if you do happen ever meet the person or people who designed him, you'll definitely have to thank them, because _damn_.

You allow yourself a minute more of admiring and then force your gaze away from his admittedly nice, though not completely well defined, not with the way he's sitting right now, to the bullet hole near his right shoulder. It doesn't look fresh, per se, but it still seems to be leaking blue blood, no doubt the reason for the stain on your floor and his clothing. From here, you let your gaze flick to his face, and find that, luckily for you, your birds have his undivided attention and that it doesn't even seem as if he has noticed your presence yet.

_Even his profile is nice_, you think despairingly, and them clear your throat to announce your arrival. He looks at you then, and your traitorous heart skips a beat because without the brim of his cap obscuring his face, his eyes, dark and soulful, are on full display. There's a small smile on his full lips, likely caused by your birds, that hasn't disappeared yet, and you can feel your face beginning to heat up at the sight.

"I'm back," you tell him, unable to think of anything better to say.

"I can see that," he remarks, and you laugh, awkwardly, nervously, at that before walking deeper into your kitchen, past him and over to your oven. For the first time since you've moved into this apartment, you find yourself incredibly grateful for the old gas stove that came along with it.

"How'd this happen?" you ask, allowing yourself a second more to admire him before turning your attention back to the stove. You turn the burner on and hold the blade of the knife in the flames before glancing back at him. He looks up at you, dark eyes meeting yours, and then begins, "I worked at one of the farms, with the chickens. One day, the WB200 I was working alongside damaged his foot. I was helping him to our shift supervisor in order to report the accident when we were stopped by a security guard."

He pauses to take a breath, and you take the opportunity to check on how the knife is heating up before returning your attention to him when begins to speak once more, "We explained what had happened, and where we were going, but the guard only said to get back to work. The other WB200 explained that we were supposed to report any accidents first, but then the guard shot just him and ordered me back to work. Something within me changed, and instead of obeying, I ran. He shot at me, but I kept running. Only this one hit, thank rA9."

"I'm so sorry," you tell him, because you can only imagine what that must've been like, how terrible it would've been. He's silent after that, so you then ask, trying to move a little bit away from the subject, "So, I know your story but not your name. You do have a name, don't you?"

"Rupert," he tells you, and then adds, "It was the name of one of the shift supervisors. I borrowed it from him, but now I actually think I like the name."

"It suits you," you say and then tell him your own name. He nods at that, and you take the momentary silence to look down at the knife, only to find that the knife is glowing just as the article you'd read said it should.

"It's game time," you tell him, and turn off the burner. You walk closer to him then, and while trying not to get distracted by his eyes, you press the flat of the kitchen knife against the bullet hole on his chest for as long as the article had told you, and then do the same to the one on his back.

"There," you say, pulling the knife away and setting it aside. You lean in to examine the bullet holes once more and then take a step back. The bleeding seems to have stopped, so you guess you must've done something right. Rupert reaches up to feel the now-cauterized wound and then says, "Thank you."

You smile at him in response before picking the knife back up and taking it over to the kitchen sink. After you rinse the knife off, you turn back to him and say, "You're welcome to get cleaned up in my bathroom. I can wash the clothes you're currently wearing for you, and give you some new ones while you wait."

"You don't have to do that," Rupert says, beginning to pull his shirt back on.

"I want to," you assure him, because for some inexplicable reason, _you do_. Rupert pauses, looking at you with wide eyes, and then finally says, "Okay."

"Bathroom is this way," you say, while pointing in the direction it's in, and then add, "I'll go find some clothes and then bring them to you. Just leave your old ones in there and I'll grab them later."

Rupert nods, and you turn and make your way to your bedroom. Your ex had left some of his clothes here after you and he had broken up, and you're pretty sure he and Rupert are roughly the same size, give or take a couple inches in height. You know exactly where the clothes are, because even though you haven't touched them since the break up, you've been more aware of their presence than you'd like to admit. 

With a sigh, you yank open one of the drawers to your dresser, reach in to the very back, and pull out a simple shirt and a pair of sweatpants. After closing the drawer, you hurry over to the door leading to your bathroom. You only have to knock once and then the door begins to open.

You expect Rupert to open the door just wide enough to take the clothes, but instead the door swings all the way open and there he is, standing in front of you completely bare to your eyes. You choke on air, and are unable to stop your gaze from dropping downwards, and then are unable to immediately avert your gaze, much to your dismay, because you just met Rupert and now you're _ogling_ him, and shamelessly at that. Your mind instantly floods with bad farm-related innuendo after bad farm-related innuendo, ranging from the double meaning of the word cock to a certain saying relating to horses to finally how you wouldn't mind being _plowed_ by him. 

When you finally manage to tear your gaze away from this part of Rupert after an embarrassing amount of time and focus back on his face, you notice the look of concern on his face as he asks, "Are you all right?"

"Peachy!" you practically squeak, face burning hot, and all but throw the clothes at him. The look on his face is one of slight confusion, but you don't stick around to see if he's going to ask you anything else, and instead flee back to your living room. As you make a beeline for your couch, you find yourself wondering just why, oh why, did what fell through your open window have to be an android, and such a hot one at that? Really, what business did CyberLife have giving a farming android a body like _that_? You suppose the broad shoulders and big hands and solid torso and those _thighs_ do make sense on an android built for labor, but even then, what was the point in giving him such a pretty face and an objectively nice cock?

This is just your luck, you think to yourself as you sit down on your couch with a huff, to not be able to do anything about your attraction without feeling like you'd be taking advantage of him. Even if he most likely is a deviant, it still wouldn't feel quite right, because what would a farming android know about sex?

Well, you concede, you're pretty sure he knows about the _birds_ part of the birds and the bees, but _still_.

With a sigh, you lean back into your couch and bury your face in your hands.

"Why did he have to be hot?" you ask your birds. Not surprisingly, the only answer you get is the sound of them chittering to one another. You sigh again, and wish for the couch to simply open up and swallow you whole while you wait for Rupert to emerge from your bathroom, and hopefully fully clothed this time, despite how much you did in fact enjoy the view. At the sound of your bathroom door finally opening, you drop your hands to your lap and look up, only to find yourself gawking at Rupert once again, because your ex's clothes suit him far better than they ever did your ex. While it's true the legs of the sweatpants are slightly too short on him, you find yourself quickly distracted from this by the fact that a certain area of the pants fits him in a way that they never had on your ex.

In that moment, you remember that you forgot to give him any underwear.

When you finally force your traitorous gaze up to his face, you find that his hair looks damp, as if he really had taken your suggestion of getting clean to heart. Between this and his new clothes, he looks startlingly human. _And incredibly handsome_, you add mentally.

"You look nice," you finally manage, face burning hot. Rupert pauses, and smiles, albeit a small one, and says, "Thank you."

An idea comes to you then, a wild, crazy idea that you really want to bring up but at the same time you're hesitant to do so, so instead you first ask, "Were you staying anywhere before you fell in through the window?"

Rupert nods, his small smile turning sad, as he explains, "I was staying in an apartment, with pigeons. And then yesterday I was found, but I managed to get away."

Without even really stopping to think first and unable to really stop yourself, you say, "You can stay here for a few days, if you like. At least until you can be sure you won't be found again."

He simply stands there, looking at you with hesitation clear on his face before finally nodding and saying, "Okay."

Despite his initial hesitation, Rupert ends up staying with you longer than just a few days, even after the success of the android uprising. This is a surprising but not unwelcome development, you have to admit. Even if he has practically usurped care of your birds from you, you still like having him around, and not just because he's nice to look at. While you do admit that getting to look at him is a definite benefit, you also just like having his company. It's nice to have someone around, you decide, someone to come home to, even if you and he are just friendly, nothing more and nothing less. When he's not taking care of your birds, he usually spends his time drawing intricate patterns in a notebook you'd given him upon his request, and sometimes talking with you.

One evening, when you're sitting on your couch and watching a marathon of old romcoms, you look up from your television to find Rupert sitting in front of your birds, but looking at you, his notebook closed on his lap.

"Everything okay, Rupert?" you ask, because you've never caught him looking at you like this before, or at least not with this odd sort of contemplation in his dark eyes. After a moment, he asks, "What is it like to kiss someone?" 

At that moment, you're glad you had waited to eat another handful of popcorn because you're sure that you would've choked on it if you had. Instead, you simply drop it back into the bowl in your surprise. You do still manage to choke on air, but you quickly recover from that and then ask, "What brought this up?"

"The movies you've been watching," he states, simply, and you concede to yourself that this does make some sense. With a small sigh, you say, "Well, it really just depends on who it is that you're kissing. Of course, you don't kiss family members the same way that you would someone you're dating, but usually kissing is...nice, I guess."

Rupert sets his notebook aside and stands up. He comes to sit beside you on the couch before asking, "Will you kiss me? I want to know how it feels for myself."

You blink rapidly in surprise, heart beating fast in your chest, because out of all the questions he's asked you, this is the only one that has managed to catch you completely off-guard. Quietly, not quite able to trust your voice, you ask, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Rupert replies, his brown gaze completely serious. With that, you lean in and press your lips to his. It's as chaste as a kiss can be, but he gasps against you nonetheless. His lips are soft against yours and you're reluctant to pull away but do so anyway. There's a faint blue flush across his cheeks and his jaw has gone slack. You smile at the sight, but still reach out to push his chin back up.

"So that's a kiss," he says, smiling contentedly.

After this, something changes between you and him, to the point that you wouldn't call what you have with him simple friendship anymore, but also not anything explicitly romantic, or at least not in a traditional sense. Every so often, he'll ask you to kiss him again, and you always comply because honestly, how could you not? He never asks for more, and you don't dare to suggest more, but even if this is the strangest not-quite-relationship or proper relationship you've ever been, you're still happier than you've been in a while.

And then comes the day that your ex knocks on your door. Without even checking to see who it is, but then stand there in shock when you open the door and see just who it is that came knocking.

"Can we talk?" your ex asks, and you're tempted to just shut the door but don't.

"I," you begin instead, but trail off, unsure of what exactly to say because this is just all so unexpected.

"She's busy," Rupert says from behind you. You barely have a second to see the look of astonishment on your ex's face before Rupert shuts the door. As the door closes, you turn around and ask, incredulous, "What was that about, Rupert?"

"I don't know," Rupert replies with a shrug, and then, quieter and inexplicably more conflicted, he continues, "I just don't like him being here."

"Why?" you ask, looking at him in confusion. It's not like you really want your ex here either, but at least you have a reason for that. All he knows about your ex is the little that you've told him, but you don't see why that would make him _jealous_-

"I don't know!" Rupert cries out, interrupting your train of thought, and then he's kissing you, his lips pressing against yours with clumsy desperation. This kiss is different than the others you've shared with him, deeper, harder, _needier_. You stand there, frozen, your mind finally completing the apparently correct thought of _unless he feels something for you_. His hands come up to clutch at your shoulders, holding you close to him even as he pulls away from the kiss. You're close enough to him to be able to feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathes nearly as quickly as you are.

"Rupert," you begin once you recover more, but he cuts you off by saying, the words spilling rapidly from his lips as he looks away from you, "All I'm really good with is birds, but I care for you, probably more than I should, and I know you deserve better than him, and not just because of the way I feel about you. I don't know why I feel the way that I do, but I do know is that I don't like the thought of him being around you."

"Rupert," you say again, more softly this time, and then, when he looks back up at you, dark eyes swimming with want and longing and _love_, you kiss him. You can feel him gasp against your lips. It's a brief kiss, but only because you're pulling away but only to say, "I'm yours."

You can hear and feel his sigh and then you're kissing him again, nearly as deeply as he was kissing you before, your mouths slanting together and tongues meeting. He doesn't taste like anything and his mouth is smoother than you're used to, but you don't mind at all, because he's still _Rupert_ even if he isn't truly human.

"Come on," you say, pulling away to grab his hand and tug him towards the bedroom. Mutely, though smiling broadly, Rupert follows you. Once inside, you let go of his hand but only so that you can pull your shirt off and over your head. 

"Are we?" he begins, but then trails off, dark brows furrowed in thought. Even so, you know what he's asking, so in return you ask, "Do you want to?"

Without any hesitation whatsoever, Rupert answers, "Yes."

"Then we are," you reply, and unbutton your pants before pulling them down your legs and kicking them off. You take off your underwear and bra in turn and then look back at Rupert, only to find him simply standing there, staring at you much as you've found yourself staring at him in the past, a mix of wonder and desire shining in his dark eyes.

"This won't work if I'm the only who's only naked," you tell him with a teasing grin. At that, and without a word, Rupert begins to undress as well, until every piece of his clothing is scattered throughout your bedroom and he's standing bare before you.

_He's beautiful_, you think, taking a moment to just look at him, at the heat in his dark gaze and the blue flush blooming on his cheeks, at the part of his full lips and the rise and fall of his chest, at the hardening length of his cock and his slight shift in posture as you gaze upon him. If it weren't for the bullet hole on his shoulder and the blue flush on his face, you wouldn't know that he wasn't human. Right now, at the moment, you don't care than he's not human, and honestly, even before now you haven't cared much, not since that first night in which he quite literally fell into your life and onto your carpet. 

"Come here," you tell him, holding your hands out towards him. He steps forward and takes your hands in his, and from here you take to opportunity to tug him closer and kiss him again. You pull away from the kiss in order to grin at him. Then, you tug him onto the bed with you, maneuvering so that he's on top you. He smiles at you and you kiss him once more. You can feel his cock pressing into you, and you angle your hips so that he's rubbing against your sex, though not quite so that he can enter you yet.

"Please, rA9, I need," Rupert begins, having pulled away from the kiss, but then trails off with a low groan.

"I know," you say, breathily, and reach down to guide his cock inside of your sex. All it takes for him to be completely sheathed inside of you is a small thrust of his hips. You moan at the feeling, and so does he.

"Move, please, Rupert," you say, when he does nothing else, and reach back up to thread your fingers in the dark strands of his hair. When he still doesn't do anything else, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer, all while angling your hips upwards in a clumsy attempt at thrust.

"Okay," he says, then, a hint of static intermingling with the regular timber of his voice, and then he begins to move atop you, as if the movement of your hips had spurred him back into action. You kiss him then, in part to keep the neighbors from hearing too much and in part because you just want to, because you love the way his lips feel moving against yours.

He feels so good inside of you, so long and thick and _perfect_ as he thrusts into you. The rhythm of his thrusts is sloppy and uneven, but you don't mind one single bit, because he's still here with you, and you finally get to have him the way you've wanted since the very first day you met him. Besides, even if he's not quite _plowing_ you, heat is still growing inside of you. To help the pleasure inside of you along, you move one hand away from his hair and reach down between your body and his in order to find your clit and rub it. Between this, the feeling of his cock inside of you, and the way he thrusts into you, having reached a rhythm that's still not the steadiest, but nonetheless hard and deep, heat continues to grow deep inside of you until finally, finally your orgasm washes over you and leaves you moaning into the kiss.

Rupert also moans as he comes, and after his hips still, he very nearly collapses on top of you, but manages to land beside you instead. He turns to look at you and you smile before wrapping your arms loosely around him. He returns your smile and wraps his own arms around you then, pulling you even closer to him.

You can hear your birds chirping to each other even from here, and as you wrap your arms even more tightly around Rupert, you can't help but to smile at the sound.


End file.
